


I knew him.

by demonsonthemoon



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, 逆転裁判 | Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: Fight Scene, Gen, It had been so long since I had last written an action sequence OMJ, MCU!AU, Miles is the Winter Soldier, Phoenix is Captain America, Violence, this is basically the whole bridge fight scene from the TWS movie so..., this was fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-08-30 06:46:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8522713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonsonthemoon/pseuds/demonsonthemoon
Summary: Phoenix Wright is Captain America.
The Winter Soldier, he discovers, is someone he knows. And has to fight.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt by Nimpnawakproduction on tumblr: The retranscription of the Winter soldier “who the hell is bucky?” scene but with Phoenix and Edgeworth instead.
> 
> I haven't written for the Ace Attorney fandom in aaaaaaages so like... be aware of that.

He felt vibration radiate through his shield, and for a split second he allowed himself to feel scared. That metal arm couldn't be anything but vibranium to stay ungrazed liked this. And someone with as much strength as the Winter Soldier wasn't natural.

Phoenix was kicked in the stomach. He lost his footing and fell down, covering himself with his shield as he got into a crouching position. Bullets hit the metal almost immediately. He couldn't afford to be distracted. There was another supersoldier, someone just like him, but he was trying to _kill_ him. He had to focus.

Heavy footsteps. The soldier was moving. Phoenix needed to get out of the way, out of the line of fire, _now_. He started running, shield still in front of him, felt more bullets bounce off the metal. The Soldier was hiding behind a car and Phoenix didn't think. He could imagine Maya screaming at him that he was being unsafe, but there was no time to play things the safe way. He jumped over the car, slid over its roof and kicked the gun out of the Soldier's hand. Of course, he had barely regained balance that his enemy started shooting at him with _another_ gun, and suddenly Phoenix could understand why Maya always insisted that a shield wasn't a proper weapon and that he should _at least_ learn to shoot a little better. Once again, there wasn't time to think about that, and Phoenix charged in, changing the footing of the fight back to close combat so that he wouldn't be at so much of a disadvantage.

He could hear gunfire in the distance and wondered how Apollo was faring. He hadn't asked for this, Phoenix had been the one dragging him in. He couldn't not feel guilty about that. Sure, the young man had had his own reasons to want to help, but Phoenix was sure that following Captain America was part of them anyway, and the weight of that fact rested on his shoulders. Especially since he wasn't acting as Captain America right now. He was doing things illegally. And getting his friends in trouble.

He realised that said friends would be in a lot more trouble if he didn't stop his thoughts from wandering. The Winter Soldier managed to get a grip on his Shield, the strength of his metal arm giving him an advantage. Phoenix jumped as the Soldier twisted his arm, somehow managing to keep holding onto his shield as he did a 360° flip before hitting the ground again. His shield was still pulled out of his hands then though, and after attempting to get a hit in he was sent scrambling backwards. He stared at the Winter Soldier for half a second. Something was bugging him about his appearance, had been bugging him since the first blurry pictures he had been shown. But the man was wearing a mask that covered half of his face, so Phoenix couldn't be certain of anything.

He raised himself up again, barely avoiding getting hit with his own shield as the Soldier threw it with spectacular force. It buried itself in a van right behind Phoenix, who judged it would take too much time to get it back. He kept running instead. The Winter Soldier pulled out a set of knives, and Phoenix tried to land a punch, forcing the other man to get into a defensive position from where using the knives would be harder.

Phoenix couldn't remember ever having to fight like this. He had never stood a chance in any fight before getting injected with the super-serum, and after that no single adversary had been well-matched. In this moment, he could really feel how not his own his body was, how it had been transformed into a weapon that even Phoenix only barely had control over. He wasn't the one fighting, he was only reacting out of instinct. Phoenix didn't want to have to fight.

But this was life or death. Not just for him, but also for his friends, for his people.

So he fought, punch after punch, trying to break the soldier's guard. He slipped up, lost his advantage for a second and was forced to step back and bend down to avoid a slash of the Soldier's knife. But he stood back up immediately, avoiding the Soldier's metal arm and going for his other one instead. The Soldier dodged the hit and attempted a counter-strike, but Phoenix had expected the move and took a step back, creating enough momentum to lend a circular kick in his opponent's chest. The Soldier went sprawling into a nearby car, long gray hair flying as he fell back. Phoenix could have hesitated, but he knew he couldn't afford that anymore, so he immediately charged again.

He caught the Winter Soldier with a knee-kick to the chin, and was about to land a punch when the other man broke his guard and caught his arm. Phoenix managed to make him lose his balance though, and sent the Soldier to the ground once more.

He tried to pull his hand away to throw another punch, but the Soldier caught his wrist, twisting it painfully and using it to pull himself up. Before he had time to think about it, Phoenix had a hand around his neck. At such a close distance, he couldn't help but wonder again why something felt familiar about the man. He felt like he knew those eyes, but couldn't imagine how that would be possible. He knew close to nobody in the twenty-first century, and with Harry gone, all the people he had been close to before were dead.

He aimed for the Soldier's shoulder in an attempt to make him let go, and was sent sprawling over the roof of the van his shield was still stuck in. He saw the Soldier approach and pull out another knife, and knew that he needed to protect himself. He raised his guard just in time, and the knife scraped against the metal of the car. Phoenix moved sideways, still holding the Winter Soldier's arm, until he could reach his shield. He pushed the other man back, pulled as hard as he could to dislodge his weapon, and raised it just in time to avoid another hit.

He took a step forward, avoiding kicks and punches and trying to land his own, until he managed to block one of the metal arm's articulation with his shield. The Winter Soldier seemed confused for a second, unable to react to his arm malfunctioning.

If he had had more time, Phoenix would probably have wondered what had happened to his arm, maybe he would even have pitied the man. Instead he hit him in the chin with the side of his shield, then grabbed a hold of his face and threw him towards the ground. The Soldier fell face first on the concrete, though he managed to roll and avoid a too serious injury.

His mask had been damaged in the fall, however, and fell off as he stood up.

His grey eyes were cold, familiar in their color though not in their emptiness. But the shape of his face, the thinness of his lips, those were familiar in every single way.

Phoenix stood up straighter, staring. It didn't make any sense. It shouldn't even be possible.

“Miles?”

Miles was dead. Phoenix knew that. He had been his best friend, and Phoenix had dragged him into trouble, just like he had with Maya and Apollo. He had been his best friend, and Phoenix had let him die. He had watched him fall, hadn't been able to do anything.

Miles Edgeworth was dead.

But his mirror image was staring at Phoenix.

“Who the hell is Miles?”

Even his voice was the same, which convinced Phoenix that he wasn't wrong. This couldn't be anyone but Miles.

It didn't make sense, but Phoenix supposed that his own existence didn't make sense either.

Something had changed in the other man's eyes. They weren't cold and empty anymore. They looked confused, almost scared. That expression only lasted for a few seconds, though, before it steeled itself into determined anger once more.

The Soldier – could it really be Miles? – raised his gun once more, before getting kicked in the head by Apollo as he came gliding from the sky. The young man looked quite impressive in his red suit and black mechanical wings, and Phoenix still couldn't quite believe that a person he had thought to be young, sweet and innocent was actually only three years younger than him – if you didn't count Phoenix' frozen time – and a war veteran whose job had consisted of _literally flying_ to people's rescue.

The Winter Soldier didn't seem that impressed though, and was quick to recuperate from his fall. But he still looked troubled, and hesitated a second before pointing his gun at Phoenix.

As they stared at each other, Phoenix would have sworn he could see some recognition in Miles' eyes. He didn't have time to do anything about it, as a rocket flew just above his shoulder and hit the Soldier's metal arm with a loud explosion.

Phoenix turned around, and Maya was leaning against a car, rocket launcher in one hand, the other one pressing against her chest with fingers already reddened by blood.

Her eyes were pleading, and Phoenix turned away from her to focus on his opponent once again. He had dragged her into this mess, was responsible for her injuries, the least he owed her was to finish his fight. Even if it really was Miles on the other side.

Sirens pierced the silence that had settled in the wake of the explosion, and in a few seconds Phoenix, Apollo and Maya all found themselves surrounded by armed men in SHIELD uniforms.

Phoenix was asked to go on his knees, but barely registered the command as he desperately looked for the Winter Soldier. If it was really Miles, then the people calling the man a ghost story had been more literal than they had probably meant to. He wasn't there anymore. He had somehow managed to disappear in the confusion and smoke that had followed the rocket's explosion.

Phoenix was kicked in his knee and fell down.

_What now?_

 

 

The Soldier was sitting in a chair, and he knew that someone was talking to him, someone he should be listening to. But his thoughts kept going back to the man on the bridge. The man with his dark hair slicked back, the man with the shield.

He remembered things. He remembered cold. Snow. Falling. Pain. But also... laughter. Himself and two other boys, and holding a snow ball in the fingers of his left hand. He remembered ice and cold and cold and cold.

A man came into the room and the soldier raised his eyes. His whole head felt heavy.

“Mission report,” the man commanded, voice loud and cutting.

But the Soldier felt wrong. He couldn't focus on what was expected of him, not when he _remembered_.

Someone leaning against him – _you need to stop getting into fights – this girl was scared, I was the only one there –_ someone with his arms around him – _it's okay, it's gonna be okay – why did he have to die? He was my only family why did he die why did he – I'll be your family now –_ undistinct chatter – _the army?_ \- falling – falling – cold.

He was slapped across the face and his body jerked back. The Soldier focused on his surroundings again, on the man in front of him.

“Mission report. Now.”

His tongue was thick in his mouth. “The man on the bridge... Who was he?”

There was a name, on the tip of his tongue. He couldn't find it, but it was there. What had that man called him? _Miles_? Was that _his_ name?

He remembered a male voice, warm, compassionate, calling this name, and it hurt but he didn't know why.

“You met him earlier this week on another assignment.”

That was wrong. The soldier knew it. He had memories. Old memories.

The man giving him order sat down in front of him.

“Your work has been a gift to mankind. You shaped this century. And I need you to do it one more time.”

“But I knew him.”

He knew it wasn't the answer he was supposed to give. He knew he should stop talking about it, he should comply. He could feel his body and his mind resist even as he gave the answer, but he _had_ to know.

The man in front of him sighed, then stood up.

“Wipe him. Start over.”

Two men took a hold of the Soldier, pushing him back into the chair. He let himself be manhandled, was given something to bite on so he wouldn't hurt himself, and then the machine was turned on. Cuffss automatically wrapped themselves around his arms and legs, and the apparatus slowly descended onto his head.

He knew what would come next. Pain. Then blankness.

Still he kept on thinking:

_I knew him_.

 


End file.
